


Obnoxious, Funny, True, & Mean

by APgeeksout



Category: World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Episode Tag, F/F, Oral Sex, PWP
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-27
Updated: 2016-03-27
Packaged: 2018-05-29 09:47:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 717
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6369961
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/APgeeksout/pseuds/APgeeksout
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Can't believe you're already this wet," Sasha says, and forestalls any answer Becky might have made with a swipe of her tongue, too much and not enough all at the same time.  </p>
<p>Becky and Sasha find a moment together after Fastlane 2016.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Obnoxious, Funny, True, & Mean

"Can't believe you're already this wet," Sasha says, and forestalls any answer Becky might have made with a swipe of her tongue, too much and not enough all at the same time. 

"'Cause I'm the only one who's eager, here." Becky scratches the nails of one hand through Sasha's hair, sweaty as her own after the match, while the other toys idly with the fastenings of her corset top. The shiny material's still in place only because The Boss had abandoned all the fiddly little catches in favor of dropping to the floor at her feet, taking Becky's tights down with her.

"You're this sloppy, even though you were just waiting for me to turn on you the whole time," Sasha says, matter-of-fact, if breathless, and nudges Becky's thighs further apart, fingers finding and pressing into a bruise on the back of her knee. One they both know Sasha put there. 

"And you weren't?" 

Sasha laughs against her skin, makes her shudder. "No, I wasn't. You're not a nasty enough girl to be a threat to me, Becky."

She winds her fingers deeper into the fuchsia of Sasha's hair and gives a sharp little tug. "You sure about that?" 

After all, Becky's feeling a little nasty tonight, spread open here where anyone could walk in. The mirror to her left shows her makeup half-melted from her face, with sweat and friction from the match, with the slide and press of Sasha's fingers inside her.

"I'm sure you want to get off my hair if you want to get off at all tonight," Sasha says, voice coming out more unsteady than Becky thinks she probably means for it to. 

She loosens her grip, lets Sasha's head tip forward again. Sasha's mouth trails hot and wet up the inner side of her thigh and over to graze past her clit, and Becky gropes out with her free hand for the edge of the makeup counter, taking some of the weight from her trembling thighs.

"What would you have done if I had done it?" Sasha asks, lips never leaving Becky's skin. "Put you in a Bank Statement out there in front of fourteen thousand people?" 

Only one of her hands is on Becky now, straying back down her thigh to return to that tender bruise. She knows, from experience - from the way Sasha's breath catches against her - that the other is inside Sasha's own gear, working herself over only a little more expertly than she's taking Becky apart. By the time Becky gets her hands or her mouth on Sasha she's going to be flushed and sensitive, will have already come just from what she's doing to Becky. 

It's that knowledge that turns Becky's voice into a broken rasp when she finally answers, "I'd've come, right there on the canvas."

She's not totally sure that's true of the match - the anticipation of this moment, of _them_ , has been under her skin all night, though she's not sure it would have reached its peak in the ring - but it's true enough for right now. The noise Sasha makes low in her throat travels right on through to her lips and into Becky's skin, slick and swollen against her mouth. 

Sasha presses fingers into her bruised flesh more deeply than before, and surges up against her, tongue swirling over Becky's clit while she moans out her own orgasm.

Becky's fingers tangle into Sasha's hair again, more desperate than vicious this time, as she rocks into the touch of her mouth. In the end, her knees go weak, and it's her shaky grip on the makeup counter and Sasha's cheek pressed flush against her thigh that keep her mostly upright as she lets loose with a groan that she can only imagine carries out to the rest of the roster - tells them all exactly how cheap she is - and shudders against Sasha's tongue. 

Sasha braces her with warm hands at her hips and nips softly at the crease of Becky's thigh, until she pushes back to her feet and tugs Becky down into a kiss. She tastes her own cunt, sharp and strong on Sasha's lips when their mouths crash together. 

"Deny this if you repeat it," Sasha says, grinding her back against the countertop, "but we're still the best at this."

**Author's Note:**

> Title snagged from Liz Phair's "Flower".


End file.
